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<title>This is gonna be one of those things by Theartfulldodger</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328865">This is gonna be one of those things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theartfulldodger/pseuds/Theartfulldodger'>Theartfulldodger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auror Harry Potter, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Flirting, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Song Lyrics, alcohol consumption</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:28:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theartfulldodger/pseuds/Theartfulldodger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco de-stress at a bar after a long day assisting with an emergency at St. Mungo's. </p>
<p>Based on the song Cowboy Like Me by Taylor Swift.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This is gonna be one of those things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Draco kicks the snow off his boots just inside the door of the only bar that was open on Christmas. The room is predominantly illuminated by strings of multi-colored lights, half of which are burnt out, and a couple of bare bulbs hanging above the bar top. Muggle music plays from speakers perched in the corners of the rooms, acoustic guitars and old, twangy vocals. One other patron sits alone, slouched in a corner booth. The room smells of cigarettes and sour beer, but after the day Draco’s had, it’ll do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco sinks bonelessly onto a barstool and plants his elbows onto the sticky counter. He removes his knit hat and runs a hand through his mussed, sweat-damp hair. Instead of spending the day lounging at Pansy’s flat, consuming his weight in wine, he and half his department were called in to assist with an emergent response. A time-released poison had impacted enough Chocolate-Covered Frogs to fill his ward that morning with both patients and the flood of Aurors who were immediately assigned to the case. It had taken nearly twelve hours, but his team had managed to stabilize every patient that was admitted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get you something?” The bearded bartender asks as he wipes the inside of a beer glass with a stained towel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco sighs. “Scotch. Don’t care what kind. Neat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cheap liquor smells like a damp campfire and tastes just as dreadful. It’s a smoky, aggressive burn that settles in a fiery pool at the pit of Draco’s stomach. Quicker than he’d planned, Draco’s head begins to sway gently and his thoughts stray aimlessly from the horrors of the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the scotch nearly rocks Draco to sleep, the door swings open, permitting a gust of frigid air. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco immediately recognizes the man who slowly meanders to the bar, leaving puddles of snow in his wake. It’s not something he can explain, that visceral reaction he has every time Harry Potter walks into a room. It was there even before they started fucking around, and it’ll likely be there long after. He doesn’t care to understand it. That anxious energy is uncomfortable enough without the added annoyance of a psychoanalysis.</span>
</p>
<p><span>Potter plops on the barstool next to Draco and practically melts onto the bar. He smells of sweat and the faint lingering herbal aromas of St. Mungo’s. Stray, greasy curls escape the tangled knot tied at the back of his head and his glasses are smudged. </span>Purple-gray splotches paint his under eye. He’s got days-old stubble on his cheeks. He looks just as exhausted as Draco feels, having sacrificed his holiday to lead the team of Aurors. That nervous tremor rattles in Draco’s bones when Potter’s emerald green eyes pin him in a wistful stare.</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sucked arse, and not in a good way,” he chuckles. And then, to the bartender, “Excuse me, Jack and Coke? Thanks,” before turning back to Draco. The warm, yellow light above him reflects off his glasses and casts long shadows across his face. He chews on his dirty fingernails as he rests his chin in his palm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wholeheartedly agree. Can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not me. Ron can take the lead on this one. I am going to sleep until noon, eat myself into a coma from Molly’s leftover Christmas dinner, wake up, and proceed to drink myself into a second coma. It’s going to be amazing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s unbecoming of you to brag,” Draco says as he watches Potter take a sip of his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then don’t go in. Call in sick and overindulge for the holiday with me. Hell, we can get started tonight. I’ve got more than enough to share,” Potter says, eyes full of mischief and chapped lips curving into a full, wicked grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco narrows his eyes as he studies Potter’s expression, watches Potter turn to place his foot on a rung of Draco’s stool. They’ve both been playing this dangerous game for a while, lacking any clear rules, structure or goal. Once Draco thinks he’s figured out the pattern, Potter flips the board, pulls a new card out of his sleeve and starts the game all over again. Draco takes another sip of his drink, closes his eyes as his head spins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awfully tempting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Playing the snake at his own game,” Potter gloats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bible humor, the snake and the apple?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re such a wanker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Takes one to know one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this a thing, Potter?” Draco asks unthinkingly, ignoring Potter’s immature retort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter thinks a moment before answering. “No thing. Just fun. Two friends, having fun, celebrating the spirit of Christmas,” Potter drawls. He stares intently at Draco over the rim of his glass as he finishes off his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco has a feeling that this is definitely some kind of thing, an undefinable kind of thing that they’ll both pay for eventually. But Potter’s eyes are full of stars, his smile is warm, and he’s looking at Draco like he’s the only thing that matters, like they haven’t made each other bleed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so full shit,” Draco says, unwilling to give in just yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Draco, it’s Christmas... Have some fun with me,” Potter pleads, jutting out his lower lip. Draco’s first name falls from Potter's lips so smoothly, so casually, like he says it every day. Draco knows he doesn't but wishes he did. Potter smirks, knowing he’s said exactly what Draco wants to hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Defeated, Draco gulps the remainder of his scotch. He hooks his foot on the top rung of Potter’s stool, allowing his calf to lean against the inside of Potter’s thigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I guess if it’s Christmas,” Draco surrenders. His breath catches at the way Potter’s eyes spark, at the idea that Draco’s caused that smile. Draco links Potter’s hand in his and leads them both out of the bar, knowing full-well he’s already lost the game.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I could not get this darn song out of my head, so I hope you enjoyed the results of listening to it on repeat for hours on end.</p>
<p>Come say 'hello' on <a href="graymatters.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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